https://www.middleeastmonitor.com/20251211-justice-alone-can-be-the-basis-for-a-ceasefire-understanding-hamass-rejection-of-israels-terms/
Justice alone can be the basis for a ceasefire – Understanding Hamas’s rejection of Israel’s terms
The latest round of ceasefire negotiations in Gaza has collapsed under the weight of impossible terms, tightening Israeli violations, and a humanitarian catastrophe that is worsening by the hour. Media headlines treat Hamas’s rejection of the ceasefire proposal as obstinacy or political posturing. But the reality is more intricate, more tragic, and more rooted in the unending assault that has consumed Gaza for more than a year. A ceasefire negotiated from beneath the rubble, under drones and artillery, can never be a path to peace. It is merely a demand that the occupied accept the logic of their occupier.
What unfolds in Gaza today is not simply a military conflict but the systematic destruction of a people. According to UN agencies, the death toll has crossed 41,000, with nearly 70 percent of the victims being women and children. More than 13,000 children have been killed—numbers that stagger the human imagination. Israel has bombed hospitals, aid convoys, UN shelters, desalination plants, sewage networks, and bakeries. Around 80 percent of Gaza’s population has been displaced, many of them multiple times, pushed from one decimated corner to another. In such a reality, a ceasefire deal that fails to guarantee dignity, safety, and sovereignty is not a ceasefire at all. It is a temporary pause in a longer campaign.
To understand why Hamas rejected the proposal, we must understand the proposal itself. Israel insisted on holding the power to re-enter any area of Gaza at will, even during supposed calm. It demanded the right to continue drone surveillance, detain anyone they wished, and refuse the return of displaced families to northern Gaza. It refused to commit to a full withdrawal of troops or to a pathway for long-term political rights. In effect, Israel wanted a ceasefire in which it controls everything—movement, territory, reconstruction, population flow, policing—while offering Palestinians only a momentary reduction in bombing. No movement on prisoners, no definitive end to hostilities, no meaningful reconstruction framework, and no political horizon. It is difficult to imagine any Palestinian, factional or civilian, risking acceptance of such terms.
Khalid Meshal was unequivocal when he cautioned that the “Momentum on cease fire talks may decline as the first phase comes to a conclusion”. You cannot have Israel brazenly unleash atrocities while expecting Hamas to stand empty handed and unable to defend themselves and the people. Perpetrators often disregard ethical constraints to achieve victory. Israel follows the precept that geopolitical theorists pursue, namely that war operates outside conventional morality, functioning on principles of pure interest and survival. For Israel, “ethics” are secondary to achieving strategic objectives. Israel will more often than not disregard ethical constraints to achieve victory.
The world often forgets that ceasefire negotiations are not abstract diplomatic exercises. They are rooted in real lives already shattered. In Khan Younis, a mother named Lina described how she spent ten days searching for her two children after an airstrike destroyed their street. She found her daughter in a hospital, alive but burned. Her son was never found. When asked whether she supported a ceasefire, she replied, “A ceasefire that brings them back to bomb us again? Let them stop the war in truth, or leave us to bury our dead in peace.” Her grief is not a political argument. But hidden in her words is the raw truth of Gaza: people want not a pause, but an end.
Israeli violations during negotiations further destroyed whatever credibility the process had. In the days when delegations shuttled between Cairo and Doha, Israel bombed Rafah repeatedly, despite earlier assuring mediators that the city would remain untouched during talks. Reports from humanitarian agencies show that aid convoys were struck, killing workers and starving communities. Amnesty International documented that Israeli forces opened fire on civilians queuing for bread and water in Deir al-Balah and Jabalia. These are not isolated “mistakes”; they are part of a larger pattern of using starvation, displacement, and collective punishment as tools of war. In such a climate, expecting Palestinians to trust Israeli promises is a cynical demand. To think that Israel has committed 738 breaches of the cease fire agreements illustrates how asymmetric the relations are.
Hamas’s position must be understood within the wider context of Palestinian political life. The movement is not negotiating simply for itself; it is negotiating in the face of a population that has endured unimaginable loss. Any agreement that leaves Israel in control of Gaza’s future would be seen as surrender. While Western capitals insist that Hamas alone is to blame for rejecting a ceasefire, they deliberately erase the fact that a ceasefire, to be meaningful, must be reciprocal. It must restrain the side with overwhelming military advantage. Yet the proposal offered no such restraint. Instead, it sought to legalise Israel’s ability to continue military operations under the cover of a truce.
The humanitarian landscape deepens this reality. The UN has warned that Gaza’s hunger crisis is already beyond famine conditions. Children are dying from dehydration. Parents are boiling grass, grinding animal feed, and burning plastic for cooking fuel. Doctors report amputating limbs without anaesthesia and performing emergency surgeries by the light of mobile phones. The World Health Organization describes northern Gaza as “a graveyard for children” because food and medical supplies have been blocked from entering. These are not separate from ceasefire negotiations—they are inseparable. Israel’s siege is part of the battlefield, and any ceasefire that does not remove the siege merely extends the humanitarian torture.
International law is not ambiguous on this. The Fourth Geneva Convention prohibits collective punishment, forced displacement, starvation as a method of warfare, and targeting civilian infrastructure essential for survival. Israel’s conduct ticks every single box. The International Court of Justice issued provisional measures warning that Israel’s actions are plausibly genocidal. Yet the ceasefire proposal did not include any accountability mechanism, not even a commitment to allow independent investigations. For Palestinians, this omission is not technical—it is existential. It signals that the world expects them to negotiate in a moral vacuum, where justice has no place.
The United States, Israel’s closest ally, played a significant role in shaping the proposal. Rather than pressing Israel for restraint, it allowed Israel to draft terms that preserved every lever of military control. Washington’s statements framed Hamas as the sole obstacle, avoiding any mention of the ongoing bombardment. By refusing to enforce its own red lines, the US weakened the credibility of the entire process. Europe followed the same script, calling for calm while continuing arms sales and diplomatic cover. It is this hypocrisy that widens the gulf between Western rhetoric and Palestinian reality.
Amid all this, the voice of Palestinian families remains the moral centre. In Nuseirat camp, a displaced teacher named Samir described what he wanted from negotiations: “Let them stop killing us. Let us return to our homes. Let our children sleep without fear. If these are not guaranteed, what is a ceasefire worth?” His words are the simplest and most powerful indictment of the talks. They remind us that ceasefire is not a political trophy; it is the right of a people to live.
Hamas’s rejection is therefore not a rejection of peace. It is a rejection of a framework that entrenched occupation, protected Israeli military dominance, and offered Palestinians nothing but a temporary reprieve from death. A ceasefire without justice is merely an interval between massacres. What Palestinians demand is not complicated: a full cessation of hostilities, withdrawal of troops, return of displaced families, humanitarian access, rebuilding of homes, release of detainees, and a real path to political freedom. These are not maximalist demands; they are the minimum conditions for human survival.
The responsibility now lies with the international community to stop pretending that negotiations can proceed while Gaza burns. Pressuring Palestinians to accept unjust terms is not diplomacy—it is coercion. Real peace will require confronting Israeli impunity, end the siege, and ensure that Palestinians are treated not as subjects to be managed but as a people with rights, agency, and dignity.
Until then, ceasefire proposals will continue to fail. Not because Palestinians refuse peace, but because the world keeps offering them peace without freedom.
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